


Love and Almost Loss

by Megane



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Brink of Death, Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation, Companionship, Confessions, Death, Distress, Emotional Hurt, Fighting, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Relief, Tension, True Love, Unrequited Hate, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:07:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megane/pseuds/Megane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mission brings the group to The Wounded Coast, and as always, trouble awaits them. This time, Hawke almost doesn't make it back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love and Almost Loss

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, got myself dragged into another [Dragon Age prompt](http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/11099.html?thread=44652379#t44652379). I would have finished this earlier, but I ended up postponing it a bit. 
> 
> Bonus points if you recognize what Fenris is saying.

The Wounded Coast — even its very name implied trouble. Hawke, Anders, Fenris, and Merrill had followed a questionable yet strangely helpful lead to this place. Fenris scowled as he was in the presence of two mages, even if one of them was supposedly one of his own kind. Hawke paused his team and climbed up onto a steep outcrop. Fenris wanted to say “Be careful” but instead grit his teeth and set his jaw in a hard line, shifting his feet against the sandy shore. Hawke stared out at the land ahead, brows knit together as he concentrated. 

            “Merrill. Anders. Prepare your spells. We’ll need to climb down.”

            Anders moved a few steps forward. “Why? What’s around us?”

            “Not necessarily around, but in front of. There's a wall of Shades.”

Merrill and Fenris turned their heads, moving closer to see what Hawke was seeing. Anders did the same and frowned deeply.

            “Even if we move towards them, they’ll just push us back,” Anders muttered.

            “Or worse, push us down,” Fenris added darkly.

Merrill turned her head slightly, looking down towards the perilous decline. She pressed her lips together and gazed back at Hawke.

            “When will we move down?” she asked, not wanting to travel near such danger.

            “We’ll have to move back first,” Hawke noted, creeping his way back towards the others. Anders stepped backwards to give the rogue some room. “We’ll travel down the western path and steadily make our way back near here.”

            “And they will be nearby, these people we are looking for?” Fenris inquired, shifting his weight as he moved his right foot forward. “And we are to believe this isn’t a set up?”

            “We _have_ to believe it’s a set up,” Hawke corrected, smirking. “That way, we don’t risk the chance of surprise.”

            “Sounds reasonable,” Anders replied, though his tone sounded far from convinced.

Merrill reached up to touch Fenris’ shoulder. At the thought of him jerking away from her grasp, she lowered her hand down and leaned into his field of vision. Fenris slowly turned to her, and she relaxed her form. 

            “Are you okay with this — with the magic, I mean.”

            “No," the elf spoke honestly. "I can’t say that I am, especially considering your affiliation, but if Hawke says we must do it…”

            “‘If Hawke says we must’ — what if _I_ say we must?”

            “Then I believe there might be an issue.”

            Merrill swallowed down an initial retort before speaking. “Why must you be so bitter towards magic? It will help you.”

            “In _this_ case, perhaps, but I will no sooner warm to it than you to a Shade.”

            “I—”

            “Are you ready?” Hawke asked the two of them, walking closer with Anders.

The two elves gave each other a look, and Merrill turned away.

            “Yes, I believe we are.”

            “Then let’s hurry. We don’t want them to catch onto us.” 

Hawke looked between the two, gaze briefly lingering on Fenris for a little longer. Fenris merely nodded his head towards the rogue, and he and Merrill followed after Hawke and Anders.

The two mages prepared for the downward slide. Hawke joked that it was a good idea he decided to bring them both along. Fenris gave a sharp snort as he looked towards the ground. It was a sudden noise, even he hadn't expected it. Anders placed a hand on Hawke’s shoulder, and Fenris silently offered his arm to Merrill. The mages held onto their charges and focused their powers on making the descent.

The four of them made it without any real difficulty or sound. Their feet padded against the ground, and Hawke removed the swords from his back. Anders and Merrill prepared their staffs. Fenris put a hand on his sword grip.

            “They’re coming,” the elves voiced in unison, uneasiness creeping up their forms. 

This time, Hawke was legitimately glad that he brought two mages with him. Merrill acted seconds earlier than Anders did. She lifted up a Glyph of Repulsion as Anders summoned a Firestorm. Fenris’ body leaned to the left as he swung his sword from his back to his side. He let out a bellyaching cry as several Demons appeared. Hawke rubbed his blades together, watching as the enemies flew away from them, crashing into the cliff side or rolled against the ground. Fenris and Hawke were unable to act until the Glyph began to lose its size. Fenris trembled with the want to fight. Demons crept towards them, hissing and reaching towards them. He wanted to slice their foul arms, but more than that, he wanted to be free of the spell around them.

Hawke even occasionally glanced towards the elf to make sure he stayed put. He softly muttered, "Be at ease, Fenris". He was actually surprised that Fenris did keep in his place despite the obvious anxiousness he felt. When the magic faded and dissipated, Fenris launched from his position, eagerly gutting the creatures before him. Hawke couldn't help but chuckle before following after.

They cleaved through their enemies with ease; it was a ruinous harmony of Merrill and Anders' magic and their blades. Hawke grit his teeth as he slammed down a vial, appearing behind his enemies and slashing at them. When the Demon fell, Hawke’s attention lifted. He watched as the wave of Shades moved towards them. Through the mass, he could see the Abominations following. Of course there would be blood magic involved. He shook his head, dispersing the judgement, before looking over his shoulders to his allies.

            “They’ve made their move! We’ve to cut through them.”

            “I’ve been aching for a fight,” Fenris growled, lyrium humming over his bronze skin. “Now is the time!”

            “Indeed, my friend,” Hawke noted, turning his head towards the threat ahead. “We need a plan.”

            “Cut and retreat,” Anders offered. Fenris looked at the mage with a muted sense of insult. Ignorant to it, the blond continued. “Don’t keep yourselves immersed for too long. Cut some down and bring yourself back to us. We’ll clear some out and you rush again.”

            “And what if we—” Fenris lost the argumentative words. He nodded his head instead. “We’ll do what we must. Hawke.”

            “I’ve got it,” the rogue retorted, turning his swords in his hands. “Now fight!”

They sliced and blasted through Shade after Shade. It was a tiring fight, but Anders’ earlier suggestion of slicing and retreating seemed to have worked. The rogue and warrior acted as defense as the Abominations began to surround them. Within their harrowing ranks, there were other spindly, gruesome creatures. The group had no time to think about it. They just attacked and defended, wearing themselves down as they suffered through their enemies. Hawke pulled away from the group, cutting down a foe that tried to sneakily hit them. The silence fell over them, and the others heard a muffled tumble.

They stood in silence and examined the damage. Hawke hadn't said anything nor had he returned to their side.

            “Hawke," Fenris began, placing his sword in the holster on his back, "where have you...?" He narrowed his eyes.

            Anders rushed past him. “Something’s wrong…”

Anders began to cast restorative magic, attempting to revive Hawke from his sudden slumber. He tried to rouse Hawke with his words, but the rogue was nonresponsive. Merrill began towards Anders, wanting to assist him. As she ran by Fenris, she looked over towards the other elf. The expression on his face was enough to make her stop. His eyes expressed his conflicted emotions; the already strong jaw of his was tight and angry. His fists were clenched tightly. Rage filled him, and if the creature that brought down Hawke wasn't already dead, Fenris would have destroyed it himself. Merrill's brows knit together as she stared at Fenris. This was the most emotional she had ever seen him. Fenris seemed like the conservative sort to her. He never really let emotion set upon his face for too long. 

Sometimes, he was a curious sort, and for the brief time she knew him, he was able to show amusement. Most times though, he was driven by his passions. Outside of anger, what he felt was never lasting. She stood at his side, watching his face as he stared at Anders. Anger contorted Fenris’ features, and she flicked her attention towards the other mage, feeling worry swell within her. Fenris took a few steps forward.

            “What are you doing?” Fenris asked heatedly. Merrill could feel the strange tension roll off of him.

            “I’m trying to revive him,” Anders replied, hurriedly. He didn't have time for Fenris' challenge right now. He turned his head and pressed his ear to Hawke’s chest.

            “Where did you learn this?” 

It was strange. His chest felt tight. There were too many emotions building in him. All of them demanded his attention, especially when he focused on the rogue. In his eyes, Anders was merely kissing the rogue’s corpse. He was… It made Fenris feel warm and sick. That and genuine worry topped the building storm, and the elf felt dizzy. It was only made worse when Anders dismissed him with a “Just let me work”. Merrill laid a hand upon him, and he tensed. The anger began to subside as he let the mage do his work. The anger left a cool emptiness, dividing the storm.

            “I need him,” Fenris lowly admitted, unable to look away from Hawke’s unmoving body.

            “He’ll be okay,” Merrill hoped.

            “He… He cannot go. He cannot leave me. I’ve already…” He closed his eyes briefly, tipping his head back. “I left him once, and it ate me alive. But now to know that he has fallen in battle—fitting as it is, I cannot let him leave.”

Merrill flicked up her head, gazing at Fenris as the worry started to eat at him. He fought to hold back the toxic blend of emotion. His lips trembled as he slowly opened his eyes, head tipping forward. 

            “You do not understand that I _need_ Hawke. It shames me to admit it out loud. He…” He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes again. He turned his head to the right; his brows were knit tight together. “He is a piece of me, a part I have once denied, and now I'm left with this guilt.”

Merrill was surprised at how honestly Fenris had spoken. Usually, yes, he was blunt and straightforward, but he was rather tightlipped about his own emotion. And anger was just a part of him, or so she believed, but this was... She could tell that he was fond of the rogue, but he always hid it or at least veiled it around them. What she didn’t know is that he would show it when he had a chance, when he believed others weren’t watching. If she had known, she might have believed it, barely still. She knew that she did not feel the same – not about Hawke or Anders or Fenris himself. She had no one to which she was so faithful to.

But even still, she _knew_ this hurt somehow. It could be felt so deep within her soul, if only because Fenris was hurting so openly. She knew that— 

            “You loved him,” she stated, her voice soft lest he actually hear him.

            Fenris hesitated and hung his head with a nod. “Yes… I loved him.”

 _Loved_. It sounded so painful to admit in the past tense. The past… 

            Anders grit his teeth and hissed out “Dammit!” 

Hawke… was gone…? 

Fenris' lips parted, and the storm with him began to quiet down. He always wanted it back. The storm was warm and tingling. The silence was empty and dramatic but so frightfully true. The shock had left him cold. The fine hair on his arms stood up as goosebumps surged down his arms. He stared down at Hawke’s limp body and slowly started to stagger forward. Merrill watched him. 

 _“Hawke,”_ he began softly, _“na melana sahlin. Emma ir abelas….”_

Merrill lowered her gaze, listening to the broken, soft words. Her eyes widened as she recognized him. She lifted her gaze towards Fenris; her expression twisted in pity and sadness.

            Fenris swallowed thickly. _“Souver’inan isala hamin…”_

His words trailed off when he heard the strangled gasp of life. He blinked, and fat tears slowly rolled down his cheeks. The elf rushed forward as Hawke groaned, hands limply moving at his sides. Andres sat back, hands on Hawke’s chest.

            “He’s alive!” he cried out, looking back to Merrill, blinking when Fenris rushed past.

Fenris padded his feet against the floor, lowering himself down beside Hawke. The elfin mage trotted over. Fenris cupped a hand over Hawke’s face. The rogue blinked up towards his elf. He could see that Fenris’ eyes were wet. The lyrium-covered elf _wanted_ to cry outside of the two drying lines of tears already on his face, but something kept him from doing so. The mages leaned back slightly as Fenris leaned down, claiming Hawke’s lips in a relieved kiss. Fenris brushed Hawke’s lips with his own, feeling the rogue chuckle against him.

            “Perhaps I should do that more often,” Hawke joked.

            “Should you do such a thing, I will slaughter the Fade and drag you out.”

            A chuckle. “Then it’s best I stay alive.”

Anders began to stand, dusting himself off. Merrill moved closer and quietly congratulated him. Anders smiled at her.

            “Thank you… Anders…” Fenris spoke slowly. He sat back slightly, settled in a crouching position. Hawke laid on the ground, hazily rubbing his brow. “Without you, Hawke would…” Fenris gazed down to Hawke and then back up to Anders. “I should ask you to teach me that trick of yours as the case is he’s _always_ in trouble.”

            “Not always,” Hawke retorted, smirking a bit.

            “With me, you are.”

            Hawke chuckled again, reaching a hand over and squeezing Fenris’ forearm. “I’ll bet.”

The elf’s features relaxed, and he moved his hand, cupping under the reclined rogue’s arm. Merrill tipped her head, quietly suggesting that they leave the two alone. Anders watched them for a moment before silently agreeing with a nod.

Anders and Merrill left Fenris with the man he so dearly loved – the man he almost lost.


End file.
